A Small Collection of Creepy Shit -- Jenna

these are a few shit things i've written. too lazy to write something new. sleeeeeeepy.

Porcelain Doll

You were so pretty when you sat on your knees, Jonny.

God. The way every inch of you purred (just for me, Jon. Just for me). But, my favorite part was... how you fucking took it. You'd been the business for awhile now. (I could tell; you knew how to get a tip, baby. You had that textbook memorized.) But yet... after coming to you so much... after fucking you so slow and hard... you were still intact. Still clean and sweet (and tight. Can't forget tight). Still the angel of 54th street.

I knew things had to end, though. Things were rough out there, right? You'd been through a lot...? I didn't know-- I don't know. But I did know that you wouldn't be my diamond forever. The streets were going to get you at some point. When you weren't wary when you sucked! sucked! sucked! at me... when you didn't squeeze the sheets when I slammed into you.

So, I gave you an extra ten. I stared at you and sat quietly between the sticky sheets with you. If you weren't for rent (a lie) I would have kissed your bow of a mouth.

You were so young, Jonny.
Was I a father to you? Reliable? Always there? You would smile at me and say the same thing as always. "Next time next week?" but... that smile. It kept me coming to you, Jonny. It was so innocent. You were so innocent.

The final night, though? I could tell you didn't want me to come back. The Life was finally making its mark, wasn't it? I smiled at you. "Yep. See you then."

I didn't want the angel of 54th to disappear. In my mind... Jonny, in my mind you would always be innocent. The morning sun was not going to ruin that for me. I refused to see your filthy body or your black eye.

You were my porcelain doll.


Pedo thing

She sat on the swing.
Her thin, youthful legs glided over the air, invisible lips kissing her calves. Her finger squeezed the plastic covered chains like paper clips.
Children. They should never be so lovely, yet, to Principal McCarty, they always were. His lunchbox sat untouched on his desk, his eyes watching the children run across the gated courtyard. He was the monster Mommy told you about-- touched himself to girls with pink ribbons.
He was that monster and his victims were his students.


$EX
Let your lips wrap around dollar bills.
Now lick. Kiss George Washington.

A sigh. Smooth as silk. He moans a name slowly and his hips hiccup closer to you. Keep on. Hold your breath. Let him explode in a downpour of liquid pennies right onto your tongue.

You are a bank.



people were forgetting about me so i had to shovel some shit to get some attention. sorry for the massive post, kirsty, ily.

Not Enough Gun

All my friends are smoking pot and fucking each other. Wow, I wish I was that cool.
Why does the thought of being human make me want to throw up in my fucking mouth?
Unnatural but articulated, I bet. Passed-life-karma.
Bullshit, I laugh.
Sometimes I want to kidnap people. Just tie them to a chair and question them. Ask them about their logic, beliefs, philosophy, emotions.


"Why does that he-said-she-said bullshit matter to anyone, why does it bother you, really, I REALLY want to know, for real."


"How does starting rumors and cat-fights in the hallway benefit you in any way?"


"How do drugs make your life better, what's so cool about looking like a bumfucking idiot?"


"How are you planning on raising the baby you could very well be incubating tomorrow?"


"If you get that incident 'taken care of' are you going to watch the dog the doctor fed 'it' to eat 'it'?"


But I know they'll just look at me, mouth slack, eyes wide, like dead fish with vacated headspace.


I'm actually a very happy person.

Apoptosis, get at it -Kirsty

Has anyone else ever felt amazing about the fact that they may have just made a choice to throw their life away?
I'm probably going to be poor.
I'll be living off of generic brand corn chips and Great Value water, celebrating birthdays with matches stuck in Hostess cakes.
I'll probably screwed over several times "I'll pay your for this, and this, and this..." followed by "Tomorrow, next week, end of the month, next year, goodbye."
There will be times when my hair won't be washed in two weeks. When I'll go five days without a shower.
Probably for nothing.
I'll suffer through fucked up sleep pattern and halfassed malnutrition and never know where the fuck I am.
I'll be scrubbing my underwear with the cardboard paper towels and off-brand hand soap in the public restrooms of gas stations.
I'll break my nails fixing the speakers that'll blast away my hearing at age 40.
And I will love it all to absolute pieces.

Stupid Mother Fucker- Kirsty

I really want the zombie apocalypse to come and go, like in Land of the Dead.
I really want to be able to gun down some stupid mother fuckers.
Get out of a lot of the normal society standards, (of course I'd like there to some process of political rebuilding, because anarchy is about as scary as RUNNING zombies)
A zombie shooting range is pretty much my dream. I love zombies, I love guns, and I hate people.
What in the hell is not to love about THAT?
I guess deep down I'm just as pissed off and angsty as any other teenager, I just have different ways of extracting my feelings.
Through shooting dead people in the face when they try to bite me.
Also, it is my number one dream, even if I never get my zombies, to have a tank.
A tank would make me squee like no other.

If I were a mechanic I'd build outfits out of metal.
How fucking cool would that be?
I'm currently digging the whole "steampunk" type of thing right now, but it's kind of a pain in the ass to get into, a lot of the DIY shit is really technical and just DESIGNED for the failure of wannabees.
But really, it's the coolest style I have ever laid my eyes on, and I've seen quite a lot of shit.















I found these images on photobucket search, so I'm not sure who designed and built these things or I would credit them.

Severe credits to you amazingly creative and talented people!

That pinchy feeling -kirsty

There are little monsters in my guts that won't stop biting.
Sometimes I feel like my intestines have hardened and have become crispy, like snake skin.

My biggest fear is someday hearing my belly pop open. Just split apart, making a sound like hitting a pillow with your fist. I would look down and see that my insides are a moldy greyish purple and covered with dust, a ton of dust. I would look around and make sure it didn't get on anyone. My fingers would make a pinching motion and pick up a piece of leathery organ that doesn't look like an organ any more. Crusty, dry, wearing a cloak of cobwebs, it would look like a piece of dust covered beef jerky.
I usually imagine this happening on the bus.
If stood up, would all of the dust fall out? Do I need it in there? Will I be able to sew my belly up or will it just peel away like soft cardboard?
That's when I put a hand on my stomach, and it's warm.

Eye Candy - Kirsty

If I could I would take bones and clean them. I would soak them in water for a long time and keep them in the freezer. They would be cold and flavored like soup. Not like shitty fructose flavored and food colored water that is meant to resemble some type of frozen fruit.
I would suck on them. They would be delicious.


I wish I were a grocery bagger. I would ring up people's items and remember every one. I would take notes when I looked at their drives license. I'd put their tube of KY Jelly into a small bag and look them seriously in the eye and say "I'm telling everyone."

I want to walk around town with a fake severed arm in my purse. Only because a real one would smell and make a mess.
I'd open doors with it.

Exciting elevator conversation: "Want to see my dick?"
I'm female.

If a website made jewelry from fingernails and teeth, I'd probably buy some.
I'd wear them all the time. I'd stop people on the street and hold it up to their face and say "Guess who this was, I know you know." and laugh.

REDWHITEREDWHITEREDWHITE Boring.

If humans had rainbow blood, murder scenes wouldn't be so droll.

If I had eyes in the back of my head I would never use them. I would sew them shut because I spend most of my time alone.


People should start keeping embalming fluid around to scare the vampires away.

I hate the sound of ringing phones. They are coming to get me. They put arsenic in my coffee grounds. But I have to stay awake.
I have to stay awake for hours.

Sometimes I worry that I entertain myself too much because I don't long for any type of human interaction.
Then I talk myself out of worrying.

I saw a monster in my dreams who held a box full of rings open to me. Under the piles of rings was a bed of finger bones. I saw a cute little pinky.
I bet that person was tacky.